


Desperation

by amberswansong



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberswansong/pseuds/amberswansong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Somehow, it is still only stolen moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

There has always been this sense of desperation between them; they tear at each other, frantic, as if they were still afraid of being caught if they took too long.  Too many years of stolen moments in hallways and empty offices - their bedrooms were too dangerous, too expected.  Too prone to interruption.  No one can stop them now -- but they are still shoved against each other in the back seat of the limo, his hands fisting in her hair and digging into her upper arm.  It is not a tender moment.  She steals a breath, two, before diving back into his mouth.  He pulls her tighter and she shifts to straddle him.  He can feel her heat through the layers between them and his cock is so hard his vision is blurry.  He could take her there and then; six months ago there would have been no question.  But quick as she straddles him, she yanks loose and is gone, straightening her wig and touching up her lipstick.  The car stops.  A henchgirl, waiting on the sidewalk, opens the door.

"Public face, Luigi," she says, her voice calm.

He follows, rock-hard and fuming.  People are drawn to her, but back away from him, leaving a ripple effect around them like a peculiar undersea dance.  Public face, she says, but she still takes every opportunity to touch him, sliding fingertips across his forearm, brushing the side of her breast against his elbow.  His erection doesn't flag across the lobby and into the elevator.  They stand at a proprietary distance with their blue-lipped chaperones.  He doesn't really give a fuck, but she is sharply aware of appearances now, even in front of the people who work for them.  In a world without taboos, incest is still forbidden.

He dismisses the henchgirls as soon as they declare the office clear.  It infuriates him that they wait for Amber's nod before they leave.  "Probably wanted to watch," he mutters.  She is up against him again, breathing into his open mouth while her cold hand slides into his trousers and briefs, wrapping around him.  He bites her tongue and she groans, making it worse.  He is on the edge again, fighting the whimper that rises into his throat, and she pulls away.  He follows her across the open area of the office, and he shoves her against the back of the couch, fighting with the damn corset.  He wants her breasts, in his hands, his mouth.  He reaches for his knife and she glares.  "Don't you dare.  I like this one," she snarls.

"Then take it the fuck off yourself," he demands.  "Just fucking well do it now."  He is tugging his ascot off, unbuttoning his shirt.  She does something arcane to the front of the corset and it parts.  Impatient, he reaches for her, jerking her shirt open in a storm of small buttons.  She isn't wearing a bra.  No need, with the corset, he supposes.  Her bare skin against his own, and she reaches down to unzip his pants, pushing the fabric out of the way.  Luigi picks her up bodily, impatient with the height difference, needing access.  He rips her panties off a second before her ass hits the top of the desk, and she is only there long enough to shift her weight before he is pushing into her.  She wraps her legs around him, pulling him closer, and her stiletto heels dig into his lower back.  He won't last long, but from the noises she's making, he won't need to.

"Harder, harder," she gasps, and he pistons against her, flesh slapping in the silent office.  Her voice cracks and then breaks, and she is keening.  The world goes white behind his shut eyelids and his knees buckle against the front of the desk.

"Get off, you're heavy," Amber's whining pulls him back from the still place.  "And you ruined my shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one," he says, opening his eyes and looking down at her.

"You better," she says, but it is pro forma pouting.  A smile sparkles in her eyes and hovers around the edges of her mouth.

He grumbles a little, pulling away from her, zipping up his pants, but his heart isn't in it.  She doesn't say anything about the destroyed panties as she hops down off the desk, so he tucks the scraps into his pocket.  Pavi isn't the only one who can take souvenirs.


End file.
